Lawman on your trail, he'd like to catch ya
Bounty hunters, too, they'd like to get ya
Billy, they don't like you to be so free.
Dealin' cards 'til dawn in the hacienda
Up to Boot Hill they'd like to send ya
Billy, don't you turn your back on me.
Into her dark hallway she will lead ya
In some lonesome shadows she will greet ya
Billy, you're so far away from home.
Bullet holes and scars between the spaces
There's always one more notch and ten more paces
Billy, and you're walkin' all alone.
So sleep with one eye open when you slumber
Every little sound just might be thunder
Thunder from the barrel of his gun.
Down in some Tularosa alley,
Maybe in the Rio Pecos valley
Billy, you're so far away from home.
Some trigger-happy fool willin' to take chances
And some old whore from San Pedro to make advances
Advances on your spirit and your soul.
They've hired Pat Garrett to force a showdown.
Billy, don't it make ya feel so low-down
To be shot down by the man who was your friend?
Remember in El Paso, once, you shot one.
She may have been a whore, but she was a hot one
Billy, you been runnin' for so long.
Down in some Tularosa alley
Maybe in the Rio Pecos valley
Billy, you're so far away from home.
great rhymning pattern.
and one of my favorate songs.........and the greatest western ever.
I love this song. The movie's awesome too, but this soundtrack stands on it's own. Apparently this was rough one for Bob to record. There are a few different takes on the album with slight lyrical variation. I like "Billy 4" myself...
There's guns across the river about to pound you There's a lawman on your trail like to surround you Bounty hunters are dancing all around you Billy, they don't like you to be so free.
Camping out all night on the veranda Walking in the streets down by the hacienda Up to Boot Hill the like to send you Billy, don't you turn your back on me.
There's mills inside the minds of crazy faces Bullet holes and rifles in their cases There is always one more notch in four more aces Billy, and you're playing all alone.
Playing around with some sweet signorita Into her dark chamber she will greet you In the shadows of the maizes she will lead you Billy, and you're going all alone.
They say that Pat Garrett's got your number So sleep with one eye open, when you wander Every little sound just might be thunder Thunder from the barrel of his gun.
There's always another stranger sneaking glances Some trigger-happy fool willing to take chances Some old whore from San Pedro'll make advances Advances on your spirit and your soul.
The businessmen from Taos want you to go down So they've hired mister Garrett, he'll force you to slow down Billy, don't let it make you feel so low down To be hunted by the man who was your friend.
So hang on to your woman, if you got one Remember in El Paso once you shot one I'll be in Santa Fe about one Billy, you've been running for so long.
Gypsy queens will play your grand finale Way down in some Tularosa alley Maybe in La Rio Pecas valley Billy, you're so far away from home
Billy, you're so far away from home.
I think this is a very autobiographical song for Bob. He said in the "No Direction Home" interview that at the beginning of his career, he set out looking for "home," and he didn't know what it looked like, but he knew he had to go there. Of course, in 1973, he was nowhere near home. He probably still isn't. He is Billy.
There's always another stranger sneaking glances Some trigger-happy fool willing to take chances Some old whore from San Pedro'll make advances Advances on your spirit and your soul.
The "old whore from San Padro" reference is an obvious tribute to one of Dylan's early mentors in the Greenwich village folk scene, Dave Van Ronk. Van Ronk often included an a capella version of the bawdy song "The Whores of San Pedro" in his set and recorded it on his "Going Back to Brooklyn" album. The lyrics if I remember them go something like this:
All the whores of San Pedro are older than God And their beards tumble down to their tits With one single bump of their ponderous rump They can grind your poor pecker to bits
Soooo....here's to the whore of San Padro To that marvelous fucking machine If I had my way we could see her today On the cover of Time magazine